


Under the Table Affairs

by magicgenetek



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Snakes, Tentacles, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicgenetek/pseuds/magicgenetek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the only way to get your demon boyfriend to put down the paperwork and go to dinner is to troll him until he's ready to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Table Affairs

Hunson Abadeer would define himself as a busy guy. He ruled the Nightosphere, after all! He had to teach his demons how to terrorize the innocent and make people miserable, regulate exports and imports with other evil dimensions, make sure the laws regulating the Nightosphere were fair enough to make sure it didn't implode on itself but arbitrary enough to be obnoxious, and try and figure out how to raise a daughter without just tossing the Amulet of Chaotic Evil on her and hoping for the best. The later he put it off, the harder she'd find it to commune with it - but she was half human and still so impressionable. It wouldn't be the same as when he wore it since birth; he was a pure demon, and came with a strong will. He wasn't so sure that hers was strong enough yet.

(Plus, Simon would probably try to kill him for real instead of just threatening it for kicks. No thanks.)

So, when the door of his study creaked open and the temperature fell a few degrees, Hunson didn't look up from his paperwork. "Now's not a good time."

"Is there ever a good time for you?" He heard Simon lean on the door to shut it, then pad over on bare feet. "Whenever you're not pestering me, it's always paperwork-paperwork-paperwork!"

"I thought you were busy with Marceline, teaching her how to cook."

Simon yanked paper out of Hunson's hand. "I was. Now, I'm supposed to pry you away from, ah," and he read, " _Expenditures for the Larval Cafeteria_ so that you can come down and eat. It'll be ready in twenty minutes, so I'm supposed to use that time to get you down to the dinner table."

Hunson plucked it back, grimacing at Simon. "I'll come. Just let me finish - "

"No, because then you'll get distracted and Marceline won't see you all night!" Simon reached for the paper and Hunson pulled it away. Simon leaned in to grab it and Hunson noodled his arms around to keep him away from _Expenditures for the Larval Cafeteria._

"She can wait until I'm done!"

"No, she can't!"

When Simon had leaned in far enough to be near overbalancing, Hunson leaned in and pecked his lips. Simon fell on the desk and Hunson snickered. "Nice try, loverboy."

"I will get you - " Simon forced himself up, wincing, before ramming his finger in Hunson's face. "That's it. This is war! I will get you uninterested in that paperwork somehow!"

And with that, he pushed away and crawled under the desk.

Hunson huffed as he felt Simon's hands floundering with his pants. "It's not going to work. I don't even have genitalia most of the time."

Simon made a noise like the very idea offended him. "Then grow some."

"Fine."

Simon worked open Hunson's fly; only his hands were visible, but Hunson could imagine how his face was screwed up in concentration at the overly complex button and zipper guards. He'd bite his lip, his fangs wearing over the fading scabs of where they'd sliced flesh before; his eyes would tighten as he shoved his glasses up against his face; that ridiculous nose would jiggle a little as he leaned in, desperate - and indeed, he felt the cool of Simon's breath against his crotch as he leaned in, the little exhale and hum of victory as he finally worked it out, and then the scream as the snake Hunson had created in place of a dick into sprung out of his pants.

"Aaaugh!"

Hunson laughed as Simon scrambled out from under the desk. "I grew it, didn't I?"

"That's not a - that's not the kind of trouser snake I wanted!" Simon glared over the edge of the desk. "That's cheating."

Hunson stuck out his tongue. "Chaotic evil."

"Chaotic good!" Simon cracked his knuckles. "I refuse to be intimidated by a," and he peeked back under, then peered back up, "boa constrictor of some kind." He tittered. "Compensating for something?"

"What, am I supposed to be intimidated by what you've got?"

"Yes," Simon said.

Hunson considered this, then outright rejected it. It was entirely too fragile and unreliable a construct to be enjoyed. He wasn't sure if he believed Simon's claims that the crown made his dick less functional, but if that was the case, he liked it even less for being less resilient than the rest of Simon.

Besides, as fun as the snake was, there was something else that would be more fun. If he was thinking about human genitalia, he was well and truly distracted from paperwork; he'd just have to find a way to get back at Simon later and enjoy the now.

Simon crawled back under the table and cooed appreciatively. "That's more like it." He stroked one of the tentacles now writhing from Hunson's pants, letting it curl around his fingers as he kissed a second. Hunson shivered; he'd loaded those tentacles with nerve endings to simulate something like what Simon had, and although he'd never reached the highs Simon got to, it was still enough to. Feel.

"How many of those can you fit in your mouth?" he dared.

No answer from under the table for a long moment; then, a cool hand gathered up three tentacles and guided them to a soft beard, to a wet mouth. Simon took them in easily, sucking on them with an easy rhythm, and his hand caught the last two and fingered them, following them to their bases and massaged them there.

Hunson bit back a moan. Simon giggled around the tentacles - he'd definitely heard Hunson - then tilted his head back so Hunson could probe deeper.

"I could choke you," Hunson choked; he reached under and grabbed Simon's hair, steadying him as he tested his mouth. Simon moaned but did not move; he let Hunson creep into the hot crevice of his throat. "I could pour bile down your throat. I could rip you apart from the inside out and let you bleed out on my shoes."

And Simon didn't move. Hunson imagined how his eyes widened at the thought, that maybe he'd gone too far this time - or maybe they squeezed shut because though he was afraid, he would stay through it to the end to prove his point -

Or he'd moan as if it went straight to his groin, and maybe his eyes fluttered behind his glasses. Hunson wondered where the moan came from:: because Simon's masochism was too much for even a demon to comprehend, or because he knew Hunson liked him too much to dare?

Simon knew what he was doing. He let Hunson fuck his throat as he stroked the remaining tentacles, digging in his nails where Hunson was sensitive, whimpering when Hunson pushed too far.

Hunson writhed. Simon knew his weak points too well.

Demons had no climax, no shuddering crest, but there came a point where rubbing sensitive nerves grew sore. Hunson reluctantly drew his tentacles back and closed up his pants, then wobbled out of his seat. "You win. I'm coming to dinner."

Simon coughed, then crawled out from under the table. He wiped his mouth, then managed a "yesssss."

"You're dessert," Hunson said, opening the door, then looked back. Simon stood there for a moment, uncomprehending, before he blushed. Hunson still wasn't sure how Simon could do sex acts on demons with a straight face but the mere suggestion of something beyond that melted him. "Bring the chocolate sauce to my room."

"Of course," Simon said; he shyly took Hunson's hand, and Hunson didn't bother waving it off as they walked to dinner.


End file.
